The Man Behind the Mask
by Jove's Boy
Summary: In the wake of the tragic outcome of the Terry Fawles murder trial, Diego Armando and Mia Fey set out to find the truth behind Valerie Hawthorne's death and Dahlia Hawthorne's history. A tag-team collaboration brought to you by Jove's Boy ("Gordy Gumshoe Goodness") and JordanPhoenix ("Double DILF Doodies," "Turnabout Everlasting").
1. How Will I Live

**Chapter One**  
 **HOW DO I LIVE**

 **Diego Armando & Marvin Grossberg**  
Grossberg Law Offices  
February 23, 2013; 1:43 P.M.

"We got it! We finally got it!"

Waving a manila folder high above his head in one hand, the other hand grasping his seventh cup of afternoon coffee, Diego Armando dashed into his boss's office and skidded to a stop, practically breathless. He threw the folder on the chief's desk and held tight. He was agitated and jumpy, and for once, this had nothing to do with his daily caffeine intake.

It was a modest but comfortable law office. The front door opened to a reception and waiting area, where Marvin Grossberg's young assistant, Terri Sekkra, answered phones and worked on menial tasks such as data entry, organizing files, making copies, and getting coffee for the boss. She also watered and maintained the plants that grew in the pots that lined the giant window. There were people out there who would turn their noses up at such an entry-level position, but Diego Armando certainly wasn't one of them. Terri had just graduated from Themis Legal Academy and had been applying to several law schools around the country, including Yale and Stanford. He appreciated Terri's work, as it certainly helped him and the other lawyers out. However, the scarlet-clad attorney would brew his own coffee, thank you very much!

A hallway led to a restroom and a nondescript interview room. The reception room itself opened into two other rooms. One was the area where Grossberg's attorneys worked. On the door, a bronze plaque bearing the names of the lawyers gleamed.

 **DIEGO ARMANDO** , attorney at law  
 **MIA FEY** , attorney at law  
 **ROBERT HAMMOND** , attorney at law

The area was about as sizable as Armando's two-bedroom apartment, so he and his co-workers had a decent amount of space to work in. It tended to get a bit overcrowded, though, and that was usually whenever Mr. Hammond was in the office. He could suck all the happiness and fun out of a room in just under two minutes! Why, his first complaint upon placing the new plaque on the door was that _his name was last_ —heaven forbid that Grossberg should put their names in alphabetical order!

Armando supposed that _overcrowded_ was one word for it. The other word—well, it wasn't suitable for civil discussion. Hammond never missed a chance to wander over to their junior partner's desk and talk to her, even when she was _clearly_ busy working, even if Armando was there. No, _especially_ if Armando was there. He didn't consider Hammond to be a romantic rival for Mia Fey's affection _in the least_ , but the man was just creepy. Hell, he was somewhere around twice her age!

Besides his constant vying for Mia's attention, however, Robert Hammond had another hobby—antagonizing Armando in the worst possible way. Armando had his collection of seventeen coffee mugs proudly displayed in his office space. Each of them had its own name, named after women Armando had once dated or otherwise known from one-night stands and coffee breaks—and now and then Hammond would pick one of his ladies up and threaten to shatter her.

There was no defense attorney in the world who'd be able to get Hammond a "not guilty" verdict if he committed the crime of dropping and breaking one of his beautiful women, accidental or no.

As he waited impatiently, noisily gulping his coffee, Armando glanced around his superior's office. Grossberg's stuffy, lurid oil painting—the one he told anyone who would listen would fetch four million dollars if he ever intended to part with it—took up an entire wall. _How a painting of a fisherman could fetch that sort of money is anyone's guess_ , the young attorney thought, _especially when the painting itself smells worse than dead fish_. Occasionally, Armando would find his boss gazing at the painting with sadness in his eyes, as if the art were reminding him of some painful memory or regret.

"Ah," said Marvin Grossberg, flipping through the file Armando had presented. "What am I looking at here, Mr. Armando?"

 _You're not even looking at it, Your Lemon-ness!_ thought Armando, thinking of his superior's constant talk about the days of his youth and the scent of fresh lemons. Despite his restlessness, he tilted his head and smugly regarding the rotund man. "It's the transcript of the Fawles trial."

 _That_ got the chief's attention. Setting the file aside, he gave Armando a stern look. The defense attorney stiffened, knowing what his boss was about to say but powerless to stop himself from asking anyway. "Mr. Armando," said Grossberg. "The Terry Fawles case ended in a mistrial."

"I know, sir, but— "

"I realize, of course, the effect the trial had on Miss Fey," Grossberg pressed.

"That's not it at all, sir— "

"But," Grossberg declared with a terrible finality, "there is nothing more we can do. Case closed."

" _Fawles was innocent!"_ Armando yelled, slamming his coffee mug down on Grossberg's desk. "You just don't … " He stopped, stepped back, sipped at his coffee, and took a deep, calming breath. "You weren't there, Chief," he went on, struggling to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Grossberg rose from his plush chair so quickly that Armando nearly flinched. But when he met his superior's slate-gray eyes again, the expression in them was kind. "Mr. Armando, please," Grossberg ventured, "do not think I am not sympathetic to Miss Fey's plight. Or yours. Or, for that matter, even that of the young prosecutor on that case. However, the trial of … "

Here Grossberg paused; the portly attorney appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. "However," he intoned softly, "Terry Fawles is dead. There's nothing more we can do," he said, repeating his words from earlier.

The young lawyer took another swig of coffee, gulping noisily. "We can still find justice for Terry Fawles," Armando pointed out earnestly. "We can still find justice for Valerie Hawthorne!"

"Diego." Armando froze, darkly regarding his boss—Grossberg never called his subordinates by their given names unless _he meant business_. "I want you to go home. Take the day off. Get some rest." A soft smile graced the defense chief's lips. "Hammond will cover your duties in the office this afternoon. Go see Miss Fey," Grossberg said earnestly. "I'm sure she'd appreciate your company."

Armando paused, considering his boss's offer. Sure, Hammond was an annoying, egotistical jerk, and any time spent _out_ of his presence would be a welcome relief. Nonetheless, he didn't want to leave the office, not with so much to do—not while Dahlia Hawthorne was out there somewhere enjoying her freedom. She had killed Valerie Hawthorne, Armando knew, and she'd certainly had a hand in Terry Fawles's death on the witness stand.

 _Mia Fey_ , Armando thought. She had believed in Fawles's innocence, all the way to the bitter end. There was something so simple about that, so touching. Now, thanks to that bitch, Mia had sworn that she would never set foot in a courtroom again. It wasn't fair! Well, Armando was going to bring Dahlia Hawthorne to justice—whether Grossberg was okay with it or not. He would do it for Mia.

"I'm okay with that," Armando put in, draining what was left of his coffee. There was an awkward pause. "Uh … thanks, Chief. I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

"Armando," the aging defense attorney said.

"Yeah?"

"If I told you, off the record, that I can't _officially_ open an investigation into Dahlia Hawthorne—at least not yet—can you understand what I'm saying?"

Cradling his coffee mug, Armando nodded slowly. "I think I do," he answered. "Thanks, Mr. Grossberg."

Grossberg watched him go. He knew Diego Armando well enough to know that he wasn't just going to let this go—one way or another, he was going to look into this. It would take Grossberg time to officially open an investigation into Dahlia Hawthorne, but he would do what he could to streamline the process. For now, he would silently encourage Armando to find out whatever he could.


	2. Cat Scratch Fever

_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful  
Stop me and steal my breath_ _  
And emeralds from mountains that thrust towards the sky  
Never revealing their depth  
And tell me that we belong together  
Dress it up with the trappings of love  
_ _I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips  
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above_

 _I'll be your cryin' shoulder_

 _I'll be love's suicide  
And I'll be better when I'm older  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life_

 _And rain falls angry on the tin roof_  
 _As we lie awake in my bed_  
 _And you're my survival, you're my living proof_  
 _My love is alive and not dead_  
 _And tell me that we belong together_  
 _Dress it up with the trappings of love_  
 _I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips_  
 _Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above_

 _And I'll be your cryin' shoulder_  
 _I'll be love's suicide_  
 _I'll be better when I'm older_  
 _I'll be the greatest fan of your life_

 _And I've dropped out, I've burned up, I've fought my way back from the dead_  
 _I Tuned in, I turned on, remembered the thing that you said_

 _And I'll be your cryin' shoulder_  
 _I'll be love's suicide_  
 _And I'll be better when I'm older_  
 _I'll be the greatest fan of your life_  
 _And I'll be your cryin' shoulder_  
 _I'll be love's suicide_  
 _And I'll be better when I'm older_  
 _I'll be the greatest fan of your life_

 _The greatest fan of your life._

* * *

 _JP: I am delighted to be working with my man JB here. Hey – JP and JB – we're the Double J team! Hee! Anyway, I can't believe how much love this story has gotten after just one chapter, and I am so glad, and hope it continues with this next one. Thanks guys! Also…Unapologetic steam in this chapter – because we all know Miego was THE hottest couple in the AA universe! ;)_

 _JB: The Double J team, huh? I can go with that! I've written some reader review respose at the end of the chapter to thank you for the reviews you've generously written. Keep 'em coming! So without further ado, take it away JP!_

* * *

 **Chapter Two  
** **Cat Scratch Fever**

 **Diego Armando and Mia Fey  
** Kitten's Lair  
February 23, 2013; 4:50 p.m.

Diego Armando grunted slightly as he fumbled for his key in his jacket pocket. He'd already thumped on the door three times with his elbow, and although he knew the occupant inside was home (he could hear the strains of the stereo playing), she had chosen to ignore his insistent rapping.

Which meant he had to exert very impressive grace as he shuffled the numerous bags and packages engulfed in his arms in order to let himself inside, without dropping anything.

Slipping into the small, airy flat and nudging the door shut with his foot, he spotted Mia sitting on the plush suede couch in the living room with her feet propped up, exactly as she'd been when he'd left that morning, her face and body utterly motionless.

Despite the hour, the legal rookie still hadn't changed out of her pajamas. She stared vacantly into space, without even a twitch. Her breath was slow and even, although her limbs remained as immobile as a cadaver. Occasionally her brow would furrow as if to indicate some kind of thought was forming, but then her countenance would slacken again into an indecipherable expression. Had it not been for her wide eyes, he'd have assumed she was sleeping...or possibly dead.

Which meant the caramel-haired beauty was downright oblivious to her surroundings, the unfamiliar melody blaring from the speakers, or her concerned boyfriend's presence as he unloaded his parcels onto the neighboring armchair. Then, so as not to startle her, he unobtrusively took a seat next to her – close, but not touching.

" _Mami_ , I'm home!" He tried to keep his cadence upbeat, in vain efforts to bolster her dejected spirits. "It's most fortunate you gave me the key to this place, since it appears you haven't gotten up from the same spot I left you in since morning."

Silence from Mia. It saddened, but didn't surprise him, as she'd been like this ever since the fateful Fawles trial, treating her mate if he were a ghost and his voice seemed to pass right through her head, as if it were as meaningless as windy breeze. Even though she was wide awake, as her eyes were open, it was evident she was merely staring ahead but mindless to anything but whatever was in the tortured confines of her mind.

"I came bearing gifts – I'd anticipated that alone would have tingled those psychic senses of yours, and somehow propelled you towards the door!"

Armando felt ridiculously garrulous, as though he were attempting small talk with a total stranger rather than his lover of six months, who had yet to even turn her head to acknowledge him.

"Also, I brought us some Italian take out for dinner. I got you a huge order of spaghetti and meatballs from your favorite place, The Great Impasta. Chef Mario Luigi says _ciao, bella!_ "

Still not a peep from his girlfriend.

Feeling increasingly unsettled, he nudged the one of steaming Styrofoam cups extracted from the cup holder he'd placed onto the coffee table, and nudged it beside her bare foot, which was propped up against the glass top.

"Plus, I stopped by Sufficient Grounds Café…"

"I just don't get it Diego," she spoke at last, though still not turning her head. "It's nearly dinnertime but you're _still_ guzzling the Joe? What _is_ it with you drinking your weight in coffee each day?"

The defense attorney was so grateful to have finally been efficacious in snapping Mia out of her semi-catatonic state that he ignored her somewhat testy tone, easily falling into their normal banter regarding his dubious choice of beverage.

"You know the answer to that, kitten. Working among these corrupt sorts distorts your view of mankind. All it takes is a single drop of milk to ruin the pure black magic in the cup."

"I've had half a year to acknowledge that bitter drink is your addictive obsession, but aren't you reaching by making java parallels in alignment with unsavory folks?"

"The weak get washed away by the tides of fate...The strong drink it up."

"It makes no sense likening everything to coffee. But then again, hell if I know about what makes sense, anymore," Mia stated hollowly, dropping her tousled head back against the cushion so she was staring listlessly up at the ceiling. "What in Mystic Ami's name do I know about anything?!"

Armando's brow furrowed as he wracked his mind for suitable response. He simply had to prevent her further veering away from his philosophical coffee wisdom and instead spiraling down this dark path of turmoil yet again.

"The bitterness…Every time I get lied to, I always down a mug of coffee." He told her quietly. "You're a newbie still, but will apprehend soon enough, kitten. In the meantime, all I can ask is that you withhold judgment."

His deep baritone took on a slight teasing inflection.

"For the record, Madame Attorney, I presumed you may appreciate a hot libation in this unseasonably cool weather, so I actually stopped by to get your favorite tea. But of course, I didn't want you to drink alone so naturally I had to get myself a cup of my usual fix while I was there! When in Rome, right?"

She finally turned her head towards him, and as he saw the lifelessness in those beloved orbs—his favorite feature—Armando's heart sank.

Aside from being the furthermost pulchritudinous woman he'd ever known, Mia Misty Fey also possessed the most bewitching orbs he'd ever seen in his whole life. The wide-set almond eyes, a soft, light brown color, were the exact shade of a latte, looking as if their roasted-coffee-bean rim had been diffused into a cream hued iris that usually twinkled with earnestness, laughter, and vibrancy.

However, right now, it nearly gutted him to see those how those jewel-like orbs held the same unwavering sorrow within them that'd been there since she'd nearly run out in front of his car after that trial from Abaddon last week …

* * *

Courthouse Parking Lot  
February 16, 2013 _  
_

 _I need to get out of here!_ Mia thought frantically as she dashed through the unexpected torrential downpour that had just come out of nowhere, drenching her to the bone instantly. _I can't believe the witness committed suicide during my first trial! Dammit, I'm getting soaked! I was in such a rush that I forgot my umbrella at the office!_

There were no cabs around, but it was about a fifteen minute walk to her place. Ten if she ran.

Suddenly, she saw a black blur zip past her, then screech to a halt on the wet cement. The driver stepped out of the car, reached in, grabbed his red brolley and rushed over to her, his mien wearing a stunned but relieved expression at the sight of her.

"Glad to see I caught you while you were still in one piece, kitten. You ran out of there like a bat out hell while I was bandaging my hand, and I didn't think I'd catch you in time."

"Diego!" She groaned with relief at the sight of him. "Thank _God_!"

"Why didn't you wait for me before mindlessly darting out into the rain?" He placed a gauze-wrapped hand on the small of her back, the other holding the umbrella over both their heads as he escorted her towards his Mustang. "I thought kittens hated to get wet?"

"Don't tease me, Diego, not _today_ ," Mia begged him imploringly. "This day's just been a _nightmare_ – I just _had_ to get out of there. I- I don't know if I'm _meant_ for this!"

A fresh wave of tears overcame the greenhorn once more, nearly blinding her vision.

They stopped on the passenger side, and as he opened the door for the distraught attorney, Diego gently reached down and wiped her the wetness from her damp cheek with his fingertips.

"Weathering the storms will get easier, kitten, I promise you," he promised softly. "But you can't cry just yet. The only time a lawyer can cry when it's all over. And your journey, Mia Fey, has only just begun."

* * *

Kitten's Lair  
February 23, 2013

The unremitting despair Armando presently recognized in Mia's limpid amber depths was nearly his undoing. He'd spoken the encouraging words a week ago, had meant them with all his heart, but obviously she hadn't believed him. All of his notions for showing compassion and comfort now seemed absolutely pointless.

He was officially out of ideas.

Perhaps he needed to think outside of the box. Maybe get his kitten to unleash her claws somewhat, even it was at his expense. _Mad_ Mia he could handle, _no problemo_. It was _sad_ Mia who was killing him, because he loved her so damned much.

"If I can't interest you in either consuming tea or dinner just yet, perhaps I could pique your interest with one of these packages?"

As he reached over and grabbed a heavy paper bag from the La-Z-Boy, Armando prayed that beneath her misery, Mia's innate _feline_ curiosity would get the better of her.

"I sense you have an unbearably tumultuous kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within you, kitten. I'm hoping by unleashing it, perhaps you'll find some solace at last."

Much to his respite, the delightfully investigative Mia _did_ appear somewhat interested in the mysterious parcel, and her morose expression shifted into one of mild inquisitiveness.

"What's in the sack?"

 _The proverbial_ _ **cat**_ _, if I have_ _ **my**_ _way!_ Armando thought triumphantly as he held up one of his conquest coffee mugs from the office.

"I had seventeen of these on my desk for the longest time. They're from another lifetime, way before I met you. Nevertheless, I heavily condemn myself for not chucking these sooner, and I reckoned perhaps _you_ would like to do the honors."

"I don't understand." The bewilderment was evident on her lovely face. "Why would _I_ possibly want to get rid of your _prized cup collection_?"

Armando sucked in a deep breath, loath to remind Mia of the womanizing Don Juan DeMarco he'd been prior to her coming along. Even so, he hoped stirring her latent sense of territorial jealousy would at least make his discomfiting disclosure ultimately worthwhile.

 _Buck up, Armando! Undoubtedly Mia Fey is worth any and all ramifications that arise from this! She's worth_ _ **everything**_ _. The first time I saw her, my heart whispered, "That's the one."_

"It's mind-blowing Hammond that never ratted me out to you about this," he began carefully. "That lout has always threatened to destroy these – and in turn, _I've_ always meant to destroy _him_ if he ever laid a finger on any of them! However, after this whole fiasco with Fawles, it's helped put things into perspective about what's truly important now."

The Latino held up the white porcelain item so she could see the name discreetly engraved on the glazed bottom, showing something which read suspiciously like _Angel_ and bore a _star_ symbol etched beside it!

"These mugs no longer fall into that category of significance, as each symbolized _una dama_ who… merely _fleetingly_ crossed my path back in the day."

"Crossed your _path_ … _en la_ _cama_ , you mean?" Mia arched a sardonic brow, attempting to keep appearing insouciant, in spite of the while flare of possessiveness sparking in her eyes. "What a lucky girl I am that _mi enamorado_ _dulce_ opted to wait _half a year_ before finally deciding to rid himself of these _symbolic objects_ reminiscentof every _puta_ whose panties were no doubt melted off by that Rico Suave accent! The very one which, although you emigrated here from Columbia _20 years ago_ , you still seem to be able to _thicken at will,_ depending on howfar your roughish _culo_ wishes to push your talents for _literally charming the pants off_ the unsuspecting target!"

"Guilty as charged," Armando professed with uncharacteristic humility. "Regardless, you _have_ to know that there's never been another woman for me since you came into my life, kitten. I swear on _both_ my parents' graves that I've been entirely faithful to you from the moment you agreed to be mine. While I'm not proud of every aspect of my past, it's still helped form me into the man I am today. Ergo, I can't claim to be entirely sorry about the life I led before I met you."

Veracity was etched into his every feature.

"What I truly _am_ apologetic for, though, is still holding onto these reminders of a _past_ that no longer matters to me, since _you_ are my _future_. Therefore, as I said, I judge myself most for not having gotten rid of these sooner."

"How _sweet_!" Sarcasm was positively dripping from Mia's tongue as she seized the offending cup out of his hand, her nostrils flaring as she leapt to her feet. "I thought these were representative of your _loco_ compulsion for coffee, but it turns out instead they were the illustrative notches _on your bedpost_ as a reminder of your lecherous history! One which it seems _everybody_ in the office was aware of… except for _me_! And now you're saying _I_ have the esteemed honor of disposing of them, do I? Well, _Señor Armando… el gusto es mio!"_

Without any further preamble, she reared back her arm like a major league baseball pitcher and flung the mug over his head. The agile defense lawyer managed to duck just in the nick of time as it collided with a resounding bang into the far wall, then shattered into smithereens before falling to the floor.

 _Mierda santa!_ He thought in shocked disbelief. _Maybe I should have thought this through a bit more! At least she's no longer lugubrious! Now she's just…plain_ _ **livid!**_

Mia's knuckles were white from clenching her fists so hard, her bared teeth gritted from her efforts to remain silent, while her hunched form exuded an animosity like acid—burning, slicing, and potent. Her visage was crimson with barely suppressed wrath, and when Armando set a finger on her shoulder, she finally snapped.

"Looks like your _Angel_ is in _heaven_ now!" She snarled, already grabbing the next monogrammed mug from the bag. "Who's next? Well, what we have here? _Candi_ …and it ends with an _i_! How sickeningly _sweet_!"

 _ **CRASH!**_

The second mug went sailing in the same direction as its ill-fated predecessor, with the loud crunching sound snapping Armando to his senses at last.

" _Hold it!"_

"Hold _what,_ you barely reformed Casanova _?_!" she seethed, her breasts heaving as she shot daggers at him. "Are you cowardly rebuking my disposal privilege of these lewd souvenirs from your sinful deviant days?"

"Not at all, kitten. But let's take this _outside,_ before of all this rumpus makes the poor, alarmed neighbors call the cops!"

He quickly snatched the bag full of mugs in one hand and grabbed Mia's forearm with the other as he steered his incensed inamorata out towards the balcony, where the fiery former spirit medium took great pleasure in continuing with her discarding method against the concrete ground, actually cackling as her demolishing methods continued with ferocious gusto.

"See ya, _Cinnamon_! Thanks for the _roll_!"

 _ **SMASH!**_

"Ya should have stuck with Debbie… _Dallas_!"

Armando fought back the urge to cringe as each clattering grew increasingly louder than the next.

" _Coco_!"

" _Charity_!" She glowered scathingly at him. " _Seriously_?!"

"She was very…. _giving_?" He offered lamely, this time shuddering at the particular force behind _that_ purposeful clang!

" _Eden_! How do you like _them_ apples?!

" _Chardonnay_ – are you freaking _kidding_ me? You said you hated _vino blanco_!

"Adios, _Lexus_! It's been a _fun ride!_

" _Trinity_! Go back to _Neo_ where you belong!

" _Roxy_!

" _Lola_!

" _Chastity_! _Irony_ much?!

" _Destini_?! What is it with all the endings with _i_?! Do none of these broads believe in the letter _y_?! Are they _allergic_ to it?!

" _Bambi_?! No more _Thumper_ for you!

" _Brandy_? Hope she didn't _burn_ going down!

" _Tawny_! Hurrah! This one actually ends with _y_! As in _why_ do all these bimbos have stripper names?!"

Armando couldn't help but smirk knowingly at her unmasked outrage. Even though Mia had been relatively undemanding and easygoing throughout their entire courtship, he was also well-acquainted with her underlying fiery, passionate nature – both in and out of _la cama!_

The latter, along with her unabashed, furious jealousy over women long since forgotten to him, was simultaneously endearing and amusing.

"Let's _try_ to be politically correct about these matters, shall we?" He drawled, unable to hide the mirth in his tone. "I do believe _las mujers_ prefer the term _exotic dancers_."

If looks could kill, the baleful glare Diego Armando was rewarded with would have turned him into worm chow in that instant!

He swallowed back the laughter forming within him. Christ, he was crazy about this wild woman! This headstrong, passionate, firecracker… all wrapped up into one smart, sexy, overall _magnificent_ package - on that he was so fortunate to call _his_.

 _She's the kind of magic that you marry._

Chuckling faintly, and partially because he was officially out of objects for her to throw and partially because _he_ didn't feel like being tossed over a 12th floor balcony, Armando reached over and attempted to draw her into his arms, but found her rigid form unyielding. He settled for putting his strong hands on her shoulders.

"Do you feel a tad better, having purged all of that out of your system?" He asked kindly. "Because I have zero issues dealing with that fervor of yours, kitten. What I cannot bear is seeing you curled up into a resigned ball, in the manner of a shrimp washed ashore, that's just given up on living. It's that ever-present fiery spirit of yours, along with your indelible fighting spirit… _That's_ the Mia Fey I know; the one I've _always_ known was hidden beneath those layers of desolation. It's good to see that blazing strength of yours resurface again. But use it for _yourself_ … Not for me."

The fight drained out of her just then, and she folded her arms protectively over her chest.

"I don't think I can, Diego." Mia dropped her gaze away from his. "It's not that easy. I – I haven't changed my mind at all since last week. I honestly don't think I'm cut out for this legal racket."

It seemed a case of tough love was in order.

"Yes, the courtroom can be a cold battlefield alright. Especially... for a beginner. But are you honestly telling me you're going to throw in the towel, and give up on your whole life's ambitions, all because of _one_ devastating incident? All of your aspirations of being reunited with your mother again, of clearing the unfair stigma surrounding her abandoning Kurain – you're going to give all of that up? I can't accept that. That's not my Mia."

"How _dare_ you bring my mother into this?" she cried, her anguished expression immediately morphing into one of indignant rage. "I _trusted_ you enough to confide in you about my underlying mission for all of this; for the whole reason I wanted to become a lawyer – only to have you throw it back in my face and try to kick me when I'm down?! What kind of _monster_ are you, Diego Armando?!"

In a blind fury, she clenched her hand into a tiny fist and socked him as hard as she could onto his rock hard chest. Naturally, it was the equivalent of a fly landing on an elephant.

"I'm done coddling you, kitten." He easily caught her next attempted punch and held her by the wrist, staring down determinedly into those flashing eyes. "Also, you're going to freeze to death out here in those baby doll pajamas, so let's get you back inside."

Armando gently tugged her back inside the apartment, and tried to get her to sit back down the couch, but she wrenched her hand out of his grasp and resumed folding her arms over her breasts, her petulance seemingly resolute.

He bit back a sigh of exasperation. Just when he thought he'd finally been making progress, she seemed to recoil three steps backward for every two steps forward. It was time to take off the gloves.

"Listen to me, Mia Fey. I can appreciate your need to wallow and sulk and _contemplate_ giving up. But I'm every bit as stubborn as you are and I refuse to _let_ you do anything of the sort! It may not be today, and it may not be tomorrow, but you _are_ stepping into that courtroom again, you hear me? No, I'm not trying to be a heartless bastard or cruelly force you to do something that I think you're incapable of. It's _because_ I _know_ you have it in you to get back onto that horse."

He cradled her face in his hands as he went on determinedly.

"You and me, we are going to avenge Valerie Hawthorne and Terry Fawles and make sure Satan's Succubus pays for her evil deeds … _together._ We're an unstoppable team, and I couldn't ask for a better partner in crime – because _you_ are _the_ smartest, strongest woman I've ever known."

Mia drew in a quavering breath, yet didn't offer any sort of rebuttal. Feeling inspired, Armando continued relentlessly.

"If you can't do it for _me_ , then do it for _Maya_. Reunify your family again, for the sake of that precious little girl who looks up to _you_ … as the _only maternal figure_ she's ever known."

Another tear streaked down her porcelain cheek, and Armando wiped it with his thumb.

The song "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain had begun playing on the stereo, and this time when he pulled her into his arms, she didn't resist.

 _I'll be your crying shoulder,  
I'll be love's suicide  
I'll be better when I'm older,  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life_

He felt as though he'd run out of words now, and was grateful for the mesmerizing lyrics of the crooner, who like most musicians, was so much better at expressing was in his heart than the attorney himself was. As a game-playing womanizer, he'd known how to spew endless sweet nothings like it was no one's business.

 _And rain falls angry on the tin roof  
As we lie awake in my bed.  
You're my survival, you're my living proof.  
My love is alive and not dead.  
Tell me that we belong together.  
Dress it up with the trappings of love.  
I'll be captivated,  
I'll hang from your lips,  
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above_

However, when it came to matters of the heart, Armando was as shaky as a newborn foal first learning to walk. How else to explain that his confident bravado notwithstanding, he had yet to inform the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his days with how he _truly_ felt about her? Tell her the words which he instinctively knew she desperately _needed_ – and _deserved_ – to hear, now more than ever?

 _And I've dropped out, I've burned up, I've fought my way back from the dead.  
I've tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said_

"I know I'm being hard on you, but it's only because you mean so much to me! I'm sorry I haven't been as expressive about my feelings as I could have – It's just that I've never been good with articulating my emotions. I've always been more of a 'show rather than tell' sort, Mia. " He stared down at her and tenderly brushed a stray, toffee-hued lock off her forehead. "I guess that's why singers still have a job all this time later. That being said this song playing right now – _these_ words right here, _they_ perfectly symbolize how I feel about you."

Mia swallowed hard, yearning for him to go on but innately putting a protective shield over her heart, on the slight chance she'd misconstrued what he was trying to convey.

"But you _haven't_ fought your way back from the dead," she whispered, staring up into his handsome face, adoring his beautiful coffee brown eyes, smooth tanned skin, and strong jawline.

"For _you_ , I would." His gaze never left hers. "As I stated earlier, nothing and nobody from my past matters to me anymore, because nothing compares to you, for _you_ _and_ _you_ _alone_ are my today and all of my tomorrows. I'd crawl back the depths of hell for you, Mia Fey, and I would find you in any lifetime. Because I love you so damn much."

The revelation caused another tear to slide down her radiant face, but this time it was one of pure wonderment and joy. Encouraged, he continued to say the words he'd never before uttered to another woman.

"I really mean it, kitten. I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. Ask me to define my love for you and I'll say it's captured in every beautiful memory of our past, detailed out in vivid visions of our dreams and future plans, but most of all it's right now, in the moment where everything I've ever wanted in my life is standing right in front of me."

Her soul soaring to the clouds, the ebullient Mia gazed up into her beau's doting face, her trembling hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Then, right before Armando's very eyes, those melancholic, expressive orbs began to transform, changing from the color of topaz to being edged with a golden verdant hue. The two colors seeming to swirl together like moss creeping over rich soil.

And then she smiled, the beatific gesture resulting in both colors igniting with a glow, dazzling him with the warmth of the deep brown and the seductive peridot dancing around its edge, and there was a purring tinge now in her formerly disconsolate voice.

"I've been dying to hear you say that for so long, Diego Armando."

Her fingers automatically followed the path of his shirt collar, encountering both the warm skin at the nape of his neck and the short, crisp mocha hair on the back of his head, reveling in the feel of both, along with the sturdy, shelf-like quality of his broad shoulders that her arms were slowly draping over. Also, she loved his towering height, which had her stretching upward and tilting her chin higher, so that it was now grazing against his.

"And now that you've _told_ me…how about you go about _showing_ me just how much you really love me?"

For the first time _ever_ , it was _Mia_ who'd caught Armando off guard. He was so taken aback that he didn't even fully register how he'd just poured his heart to out to the woman of his dreams, and instead of returning the sentiment, she'd very clearly, and _naughtily_ , brought out her kitten claws and made it evident she wanted to _use him as a scratching post!_

The rookie attorney started to wonder if her amatory boldness was a bit too much, seeing as how he'd confessed his love for her barely a minute ago, to which she'd responded with a proposition for him to make love to her! There was the high possibility Armando wouldn't quite comprehend how at the present, her heart was too full for any words. That all Mia wanted – _needed_ – more than anything in the world, was to take all the built-up love surging within her and _express_ it to him, by having them be as close as possible.

Christ, if he didn't say something soon she might possibly _burst_...

His hands found her waist in the next instant, settling on either side of it at the narrowest part just above the flare of her hips. She could feel the size and shape of them holding her lightly through the wispy, silk fabric of her PJ's. He dipped his head, and she got a whiff of soap while feeling his warm breath on her ear. The growing chemistry between them began raising the temperature in the air, as the slightly sandpaper feel of his stubble against the softness of her skin made her internally turn into melted butter.

"You know I meant what I said to you just now, kitten, don't you? I'm not playing."

His face had grown rigid, and she found herself noticing with interest the faint shadow of stubble that darkened his jawline and his cheeks. How was it she'd _ever_ thought she didn't like overwhelmingly masculine men? In a possible example of the worst timing ever, she was discovering how much she did.

"Me neither." She gave a playful, one-fingered caress to the warm skin at the back of his neck, and felt every muscle in his body go as taut as a bowstring in response. "But I _do_ want to play."

There was so little space between them that the tips of her breasts brushed against his torso, allowing her to feel _every_ muscle in his body tense up, and her abdomen now brushed his telltale frontal bulge, giving her _the hard evidence_ of his reciprocated desire.

Mia's lips parted as she made the discovery, her sly gaze sliding up over his face, noting his mouth was set, and his eyes had a heated, restless glitter in their dark depths.

For a moment their eyes held.

Mutual acknowledgment.

The air around them felt like it was slowly turning to steam.

The clench of his chiseled jaw was only a little above the level of her eyes. She watched it tighten, and his full lips harden.

Then his arms encircled her, tightening. He pulled her fully against him and swung her around, lifting her clean off her feet in the process. It might have been a defensive action, asserting his blatantly male dominance over her in that moment. But she thought it was an offensive one, payback for her pretense in not returning his ardor declaration. Whatever his motive, it was unexpected enough to cause her to lock her arms around his neck and cling to him, then leave her plastered right up against him like jelly to peanut butter, even after her feet were firmly back on the floor again.

Who would have guessed that the independent, feminist lawyer was such a sucker for a big strong man who could sweep her off her feet? At least, for _this_ man, she was!

She felt as if tongues of flame were licking at her skin at their propinquity.

The feel of him, warm even through his clothes and all solid muscle, was intoxicating. The unyielding firmness of his chest against her breasts, the brush of his long, powerful legs in their suit pants against her bare, exposed ones, but most of all the unmistakable evidence of his arousal that was now wedged between them, made her burn and quiver.

She never even realized her smile was gone until his eyes slid down to fasten on her as she wet her lips.

A wave of heat hit her, as tangible as if it had come rolling off a fire. Her heart pounded. Her pulse raced.

The music on the stereo in the background swirled around her, but she was mindless to everything except him. Except _them_.

She watched him studying her mouth, and her lips parted while her bones turned to water as she hungrily drank in the sight of this devastatingly sexy hunk of man meat, whose penetrating gaze in such close proximity made him look, and _feel_ , big, dangerous and _sexy as hell_.

All she could think about was feeling those blisteringly heated lips on hers – and _on every inch_ of her aching body.

Their eyes met again. His were hooded, restless, gleaming. They made her mouth go dry. They made her insides clench. His face was close to hers. It was all she could do not to turn her head so that her mouth brushed his sandpaper cheek. He stared down at her, his eyes half-hooded and wanting. When he looked at her like this, she felt the familiar, overwhelming sensation – not at all unpleasant – that Armando really knew her. He _knew_ how badly she wanted him, without even needing to say another word.

Wrapped in his arms, with the evidence of how much he craved her, the electricity they generated throwing off sparks off the walls, his head dipped closer still.

" _Diego_ ," she pleaded against his lips, just millimeters from hers.

"Not yet." His kisses trailed up the side of her throat, nipping and sucking at the tender flesh as she gasped. " _I_ want to play first, too."

When he lowered his mouth to her neck again, she didn't stop him. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, sending sparks down to her toes. He kissed his way to her collarbone, grazing slightly, then licking the small sting away. He brought one hand up between their bucking bodies and cupped her breast, teasing it through the thin material. She almost flew out of her skin.

Then, the next thing she knew, he'd hauled her off her feet again, wrestled himself out his shirt, and had hauled her onto the sofa before she even knew what was happening.

"I'm only getting started, _mi amor_." His voice was husky with need. "I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

He pushed her back on the couch, grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head.

"I want you to let me take the reins, kitten," he growled. "Trust. Surrender. Let me take control."

His eyes softened at her wary expression.

"I won't hurt you. And you won't regret it."

He leaned down and kissed her at last, and she kissed him back with more intensity than she ever had before. He lay on top of her, their heated mouths infused as her hands ran slowly up into his wild, wavy hair and down over his strong shoulders, along his powerful arms and around to his brawny back, holding his gorgeous male body against hers.

 _There hasn't ever been a time that I've done that when I haven't remembered all over again how much I love men. Especially this one._

She, too, could play the slow seduction game. Pulling one hand free from the prison of his grip, she decided to let her fingers do some further exploring, and trailed down his chest and abdomen. He was rugged perfection beneath her hands, muscles rippling wherever she touched. When she landed on the protrusion pressing against her abdomen, that rippled too, the rigid steel pulsing against her palm. Curling her fingers, she grasped him through his trousers. Her neck muffled his guttural groan as his hips jolted.

His pants were zipper fly. The top button came undone with little effort and she impatiently reached inside, desperate to feel him against her bare palm, as Armando was only shirtless. He was molded fire—large, formidable, and hot. She wrapped her hand around him, loving the wicked thrill that came from being in control of pleasuring such a strong, masculine man. He groaned again, louder this time. She continued her ministrations, tactilely exploring him where she knew would pleasure him most.

Groaning from the rapture of her touch, his eyes devoured the sheer perfection of her – marveling at the suppleness of such long, well-proportioned legs that would soon be wrapped around his waist as he became one with her. He shook with need as he slid his hands along the resilient, silky length of those stems. The he lifted her leg and pressed tantalizingly moist kissed against her upper and inner thigh – appreciating the delicate curves and lines as he ran his tongue slowly, savoring, nipping, watching her heated responses with a wicked grin as he teasingly kept his lips close enough to heaven to tease and torment her without letting them trail where he knew she ached for it most, enjoying her shiver of arousal.

He cupped her mounds with both hands under her peignoir, his hands teasing the throbbing peaks into stiffened points. Mia moaned and arched upwards. Her passionate mouth was open, her face flushed with desire. In her sexual need, she was as fervid as he had ever seen her. Laid out before him, her glossy tresses hair spread around her like a beckoning siren. So damned beautiful. More so, because her desire was for _him_ – _his_ touch, _his_ mouth, _his_ hands.

He claimed her lips with his as he removed her camisole, the scant boundary separating them. He needed to see all of her, stroke and caress every velvety inch of her, _now_ , this minute. The sight of his kitten and her rose-tinted skin, every nuance revealed, still took his breath away. She was even lovelier than he remembered.

It'd been so damned long.

Her bosoms were magnificent, large, but gently rounded, with dusky crests, peaked and firm, seeming to beg for his attention. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and captured one rosy bud with his mouth and tugged, drawing it deeper. She tasted of passionate need. He felt her back arch, heard her fevered moan from deep within...

"Kitten, these beauties should come with a warning label." He circled the tantalizing tips with his tongue.

She gasped and anchored her fingers in his hair. "And your _mouth_ should come with a cautionary advisement. One touch and I'm lost."

"I guess I'll have to find you then." His ravenous lips drew in as much of the sensitive flesh as he could as he feasted on her, massaging the aching nub against the roof of his mouth.

Mia moaned and tugged at his thick mane as he continuing lavishing her with his lips and tongue. Then, not wanting her other peak to feel ignored, he teased it with his thumb, and she bucked beneath him.

"Okay!" She gasped. "You found me."

"Finders keepers." He slid his mouth to the other glorious globe, swirling a finger through the dampness he'd left behind on the first one, and then his hand slid from her chest, down into her PJ bottoms.

Long, lean fingers grazed the over the area that would pleasure _her_ most, then began caressing her intimately, causing her to whimper and rock against him, moments from going over the edge already. _God_ , she wanted him to be joined with her now, _needed_ the slick feel of flesh invading flesh, turning her desperate ache into exquisite release. If she could only get those pesky trousers a bit further down his legs…

She reached behind him, trying to grab his ass, to bring his body even closer. Then his questing fingers slightly curled, adding an abrasive torment to the carnality that was rapidly building, and she fully surrendered, letting him control her like only he could, taking her higher and higher, until she wanted to scream in frustration, as she was so close to release, but only wanted to do so when he was inside her.

"Diego, _please_!" she grinded against him, spark creating fire. "Get your clothes off!"

 _Oh hell yes_. He could unite them right now, and take them both to the far side of paradise with just one slight movement of his hips to complete the act they were both vying for.

 _Oh hell no_. He always had to show her it wasn't just about penetration. Every time they were together, he demonstrated how a real man supposed to take care of a woman. None of that three strokes, time's up.

"You first, kitten." He was already pushing down on the waistband of the flimsy satin. "If we could even call this tiny bit of material clinging to you _clothing_."

"Complaining?" She flopped backward, giving her hips a little bounce and wiggle to help him remove her PJ shorts, leaving her exquisite body now fully nude beneath his.

Armando tossed her shorts to the far corner of the room. He didn't want her putting them on anytime soon…preferably never. That might be long enough to get his fill of every nook and crevice of Mia…of her beautiful breasts, her sensuous mouth…

His painfully pounding manhood…

 _Screw it!_

Urgent to feel her flesh against his, he quickly divested himself of the remainder of his clothing in record time, thankful for years of undressing practice. Then he lifted her hips, burying his face between the valley of her creamy, silky cleavage, inhaling the enthralling feminine scent that was uniquely hers.

He licked his way around each mound of firm, tempting flesh as she arched back to offer him better access. Her hands urgently clawed at his chest, as though she were trying to get inside, and he wanted her there, inside him, surrounding him, and shuddered at the sensation of a long, impatient fingernail trailing down his back.

The weight of her body shifted as she raised her long, shapely legs to twine around his waist, opening to him, yielding. Her muscles, tight and toned, gripped him close, while her buttocks, firm beneath his palms, flexed as she undulated and caressed his skin, her hands insistent.

He throbbed with the need to fill her, to feel her warm heat surrounding him. Urgently, he shifted her, knowing she was ready for him, unable to wait any longer, and eased his way slowly, groaning at the sensation of how when fully sheathed, Mia fit Armando like the finest glove, custom-made to fit him perfectly.

Waves of sensuality stroked at her and then exploded as he drove inward. Shattering bolts of electricity enveloped her, and she screamed with his possession as he buried himself within her slick, welcoming channel.

She clenched around him, nearly spiraling him over the edge. He tilted his head back, and their eyes locked. He saw in her gaze that she knew what she was doing to him. Her eyes were dilated with passion, and he increased his tempo.

He groaned as she tightened again, stilling his movements, then relaxing, allowing him to push forward even more, tightening and releasing, not enough to hurt, but to control, to make him feel every inch of her honeyed heat.

A watery bead of sweat slid down the side of his neck and she leaned forward, drawing her tongue along the path on his skin.

"You taste so good!" She rasped as she began to writhe against him, wondering if there was anything more incredible than this blissful sensation of being one with the man she loved.

But suddenly there was more, much more, as he accelerated the undulations of his pelvis. She matched him heady thrusts, her hips rolling beneath him as she increased her movements as well. Small splinters of light burst around her as he retreated and drove forward in long, slow strokes. Her slick desire coated his hot presence, and his gyrations grew faster, more powerful, and deeper still. Her nailed clawed at his back and clutched at his ass, gripped the hard muscles, pushing and pulling as she felt the tremors rising within her, knowing she was about to explode any second.

Oh, God, she never wanted this to end.

He brought his two palms down upon the cushions, on either side of her head, and stared intensely into her eyes, the unmistakable burning in them so breathtaking, it made her momentarily shift her gaze.

"Look at me," he ordered.

She obliged, locking gazes with his as she raised her hips to match his insistent rhythm.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice turned velvety. "Keep your eyes on me."

His normally perfect features were shimmering with sweat. Combined with his scuff and smoldering gaze, he looked sexier than ever.

" _Mia_ ," he rasped fiercely, the cords tightening around his neck as he neared his peak. " _En español_ , it means _mine_. You are _mine_ , Mia. Do you understand me?"

" _Yes_! Yes, I'm yours!" The words of surrender came out as a moan. " _Only_ yours. _Siempre_ , _Diego. Always_."

"I'm almost there, _mi amor_. Join me," he commanded, then pressed on with renewed urgency, taking them both into heavenly bliss in that instant.

Mia screamed out his name as waves of heat flooded her and butterflies danced through her body. Her nails raked sharply down his back and she cried out loudly while stars burst in her vision.

"I love you, Diego!" She sobbed against his neck as they reached the heights of ecstasy at the exact same time. "I love you!"

"I know, kitten." He rolled onto his back, holding her against him as he did so, then cradled her in his arms while his sweaty head fell limply against the sofa cushions, totally sated but completely spent. "I've always known."

Basking in the afterglow, Mia drowsily rested her head against his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat. It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep, the way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones.

Leaning up on her elbow, she braced against a granite pec and smiled lovingly at him.

"I swear I thought I couldn't love you more than I do right now, and yet I know I will tomorrow."

He chuckled and placed a kiss onto her forehead in response, and the two satiated swains lay there contentedly, about to pass out from hedonistic exhaustion, when there was a sudden loud knocking at the door.

" _Mia_?" A very familiar voice called out as the rapping grew more insistent. "Diego? Are you guys in there?"

Jerking upward, the panicked man cast a fretful glance at the front entrance, then down at their _naked as the day they were born_ bodies!

 _Dios mío! Did I even remember to lock that blasted door?!_

 _ **Edwin McCain – I'll Be**_

* * *

 **Godots18thCup  
**

"Armando and Grossberg's personalities are distinct and they feel very true to how they are in the games!"

Thanks a lot, pal! That's about the nicest compliment a fanfic writer can be given. I'm glad you're enjoying it! As far as Hammond goes, he's one of a very few murder victims series-wide whom I felt got what was coming to him. He, like Manfred von Karma before and Aristotle Means after him, was very much a proponent of "the ends justify the means." He destroyed an innocent man's life, going on to pocket a great deal of money for such a high-profile case.

I can assure you that J.P. and I have big plans for Hammond.

 **napoleon32**

When Godot accuses Nick of not being there to protect Mia, I've long felt that he was projecting his own guilt at not being able to save Mia. It had been eating him up for years, and upon meeting Phoenix Wright, he found a handy target on whom to vent his anger.

Thank you for the generous compliments, too! I'm not too sure how much I buy Iris's claim that the fake kidnapping and jewel theft were the first of Dahlia's many crimes, as I have a feeling that a lot more was going on at the Hawthorne house than Iris knew about (or Dahlia wanted to tell). Only time will tell, I suppose, but one thing is for certain—Diego stumbled upon some secret or two of unimaginable consequence, and Dahlia felt threatened enough that she felt she needed to take that chance. Fortunately for her (but unfortunately for everyone else), a young art student we're all familiar with was there to be her scapegoat.

 **Forgreatcoffee**

If there was a Taco Bell in my place of employment, I'd probably be in trouble. You see, I used to work there when I was in high school—it drives me _crazy_ when someone tells me, "Oh, you must absolutely _hate_ the food there now!" Not so! I've always liked it. In any case, I'd never see this Taco Bell, seeing as how I work as a teacher and I'd never get there on account of all the kids being there instead. But if I worked with Marvin Grossberg, that would be for the best anyway. Ah, like the scent of hemorrhoids, the days of my youth … you see.

 **Ilet Moratar**

Thank you! In my list of favorite Ace Attorney characters, Diego Armando was beat out by only Apollo, Gumshoe, and Maggey Byrde. Having to present his profile as the final piece of evidence linking him to Misty's murder was so hard, I didn't want to do it. Only other instance that came close to that was having to present the forged diary page.

Awww, I love Flowey! I haven't made it far in "Undertale," but it's on my List of Games to Play!


	3. What Have You Done Now

JB: We're back! It was a long hiatus, I know, but we're gonna make up for it! Our return will be as epic as Godot's debut, or so we hope. It's hard to match that! Now, I absolutely love cliffhangers, so I wonder if our readers will be understanding if we leave the Miego arc hanging for a chapter or two. Meanwhile, prepare yourselves for a lesson in music history!

JP: Better late than never, as they say, Wright? To anyone who is still reading this, we are so grateful to you and sincerely apologize for such a long delay but hopefully, a worthwhile wait as we delve into a backstory leading up to the events of _Trials & Tribulations _to now coincide with the absolutely fantastic season two AA anime! My talented partner has continued to portray an intriguing backstory behind Mia Fey and Diego Armando's love story, which we will get back to next chapter as we continue our rendition of what really happened leading up to the fateful events of game three. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three  
 **WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?**

 **Kendall Shaw  
** Ivy University Art Building  
February 23, 2013; 7:44 p.m.

"Thus we see that French composer Claude Debussy's style evokes the nature of impressionism, a movement of sorts that was sweeping through Europe. A French musicologist noted that 'there is nothing blurred in Debussy's art. His music is finely wrought and highly chiseled. Not since Mozart was every note of a score so interdependent… "

Professor Rust droned on and on, completely oblivious, as always, to the fact that the fifty-some students in the lecture hall had _tuned out_ themselves. Indeed, his monotone voice—so completely opposite of the mood he _tried_ to invoke in the lecture hall when speaking about France's musical history—reminded Kendall Shaw of a buzzing insect.

Kendall knew that there was only one way to deal with an insect: squash it and move on. Kendall smirked as she entertained the notion. _Maybe then, this old man might actually make some music_.

She sighed and shook her head, her glossy curtain of black hair falling over her shoulder, her dark eyes hooded and introspective. _Your fault_ , she reminded herself. _It was_ your _idea to take Music Appreciation and History 101 as a core elective._ She had also been out of town for a week and was still getting caught up. Unfortunately, _Professor Rust-Bucket_ wasn't making it any easier.

She hadn't realized that the professor had called her name until the boy in the next desk over gently nudged her with his elbow. "Kendall," he pressed, "Best not keep old Rusty waiting."

Kendall threw a dirty look at the boy, then looked up at the professor in doe-eyed innocence. "What?"

Professor Rust narrowed his cold, watery blue eyes and scowled, twisting his normally-vacant expression into that of a troll's. "I'll thank you," he said, "to speak to me with more respect. Your grade depends on it."

 _Oh, really?_ thought Kendall savagely. _I thought my grade depended on homework, tests, and all that crap_. But she pasted a false smile to her face. "I'm sorry, Professor Rust," she mocked. "Will you please repeat the question?"

Slightly mollified, the professor smoothed down his dwindling brown hair. _A comb-over,_ Kendall noted. _You're fighting a losing battle there, Your Nastiness_. Apparently, his sarcasm radar was _completely broken_ that day. "I asked you, what were Claude Debussy's thoughts on the use of the pedal?"

Kendall affected her patented "teacher's pet" expression. "The real truth is perhaps that abuse of the pedal is only a means to hide a poor technique; all that noise, in fact, makes it impossible to hear the music being massacred."

"Ah." The professor jerked his head upward in a sort of nod. "So you _did_ do the reading. An answer recited word for word from Maurice Hinson's _Debussy Préludes for the Piano,_ " he noted with an almost imperceptible smile in Kendall's direction, a feral smile that did not meet his eyes, one that suggested punishment to come.

Kendall felt her smile fade from her face. _What the hell is that supposed to mean? I did the homework. I did the reading. Yeah, I missed a test, but that wasn't_ my _fault—not exactly_. So she decided to do what she did best—shake up the Rust Bucket a little.

"Professor, sir?" she called out, interrupting the balding man as he babbled some fiddle-faddle about finger numbers.

" …thus we see that Debussy left very few finger numbers in his compositions, trusting that—yes, Miss Shaw? Do you have a comment about Debussy's thoughts on finger numbers?" He looked around at her, his brow knitting as if to say, _This is the last interruption I'm going to allow from you_.

"Yes, Professor," replied Kendall, her dark eyes promising mischief. "Did the other composers of Claude Debussy's time have such an obsession with… " She paused for effect. " … _fingering_ things?"

A wave of laughter, good-natured jeers, and even some catcalls passed over the lecture hall. "Class, that's _enough!_ " the Rust-Bucket roared, but there was no stopping the chaos Kendall Shaw had unleashed on the class. "That's it, everybody out! Class dismissed! _Everybody out!_ "

The usual sounds of rustling papers, books closing, backpack zippers opening, and students speaking to one another filled the hall. Kendall, too, put her books away and hefted her backpack across her shoulders. She still had a geography test to take make up at the testing center, and then she needed to talk to her sister. But it looked like the old Rust-Bucket wasn't going to make her escape easy.

" _Not_ you two!" he growled. His eyes were like pig eyes now as he glowered, pointing first at Kendall and then at the boy who had spoken to her earlier. "I want _both_ of you to wait by my office."

Kendall sighed theatrically. _I suppose this could be fun_ , she conceded to herself. Then, without a second glance at the boy (who appeared to be waiting expectantly, as if he thought _she_ would invite _him_ to walk with her), she picked up her backpack and left the room.

 **Kendall Shaw & her classmate  
**Ivy University Art Building  
February 23, 2013; 8:11 p.m.

The boy looked up as Kendall walked out of Professor Rust's office, letting the heavy oak door slam with a _thud_. "Oh, hi," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "What are you still doing here?"

"Oh, you know," the boy replied. "Just waiting for old Rusty in there. Gotta take him home." Upon seeing Kendall's confusion, he gave her a sheepish grin. "He's my grandpa."

"He's your grandpa," Kendall repeated, "and you take his class. Isn't there, like, a rule against that or something?"

"Uh, no." The boy seemed puzzled that the young woman standing before him would even reach that conclusion. "I needed an easy elective, and Rusty's was the only one that fit into my schedule, you know?" He thought for a moment. He added, almost to himself, "Old Rusty wouldn't be happy that I called music appreciation 101 an _easy elective_ ," he mused.

Kendall nodded absently, not really listening but taking an opportunity to size him up. He was decent-looking, Kendall supposed, with deep brown eyes that were way too big behind his horn-rimmed glasses. He had a full head of rust-colored hair ( _Irony much?_ thought Kendall), windswept and lightly gelled. He looked as though he'd just walked off the set of a Nickelodeon teeny-bopper sitcom. Jury was still out on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Well," Kendall said, her brow wrinkling as she considered what she had yet to do that night, "I _suppose_ I should get over to the testing center, seeing as how it closes in about forty-five."

"Geography," she supplied at his quizzical look. "Gotta know everything about some country called Khura'in, and all its history. I can hardly wait," she added drily.

"What about after, Kendall?"

"What about after … what?"

"After I drop my grandpa off at home."

Kendall didn't need one of those Divination Science thingies so famous in Khura'in to understand where he was going with this.

"What if I came back here and picked you up," he suggested, "and maybe we could drop by Starbuck's or something."

She had planned on rejecting him outright, but she figured, why not take a break and have some fun? Her other duties could wait. As for her classmate, well … though she'd already decided he wasn't exactly Michelangelo's _David_ , he still had some redeeming qualities.

"Hey," she said. "I never caught your name."

The redheaded young man smiled, showing two rows of nice white teeth. He was clearly happy to have finally captured Kendall's full attention. "I'm Doug," he said, automatically extending his hand. Kendall shook his hand, and was surprised at his rather strong grip. He was clearly a confident guy. "I'm a pharmacology major. It's my last year in this dump," he supplied, then chuckled in self-deprecation. "I always do that," he said. "I'm always answering simple questions with tons and tons of info.

"So, your career is pretty much gonna consist of filling and selling prescriptions?" questioned Kendall.

"Hey," he replied, chuckling. "That's a pretty important job, you know. But nah, that's a pharmacist. Pharmacology is completely different. We're more concerned with the substances that go into creating medicine. You know," he added conspiratorially, his eyes darting this way and that. " _We do drugs._ "

 _Okay, this guy's trying_ way _too hard now._ "Is that supposed to be amusing?" she answered, laughing despite herself, only half-joking.

If Doug caught the sarcasm, he showed no sign. He simply smiled, placing his hands on his hips. "So what's your story, Kendall?"

" _My_ story?" repeated Kendall, surprised. She smiled coyly, raking her fingers through her long dark hair. "Well …" she answered him, "maybe I can tell you a _few_ things—over coffee."

All pretenses of confidence quickly gone, Doug shuffled his shoes and looked down shyly, and though he was still smiling, it was more along the lines of a middle schooler who had just asked his longtime crush Suzie to the school dance. "O-Okay," he replied softly, a slight stammer to his voice. "So, I guess I'll—"

"All ready to go, Mr. Swallow? Oh … Miss Shaw. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Kendall looked around and saw that Professor Rust was hobbling toward them on a cane.

Doug adjusted his glasses. "Grandpa, I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. Call me Doug." Storm clouds brewed behind his brown eyes. "And Kendall here is actually waiting for me. I'm taking her out for coffee," he added with bravado. "So let's get you home, shall we? And stop being so mean."

"I beg your pardon, young man—"

"Let's get you home," Doug repeated sternly, taking his grandfather by the elbow. He turned back to Kendall and smiled apologetically. "Good luck on your test, Kendall."

"Thanks," she replied. "I'll probably need it … oh! Hang on." Fishing a pen from her backpack, she took hold of his free hand and wrote her phone number on his palm. "I'll see you later … Doug," she said seductively, releasing his hand perhaps a little later than she could have. With a nod and a grin, Doug turned and led the good professor toward the parking lot.

Kendall watched them go, a calculating smile crossing her delicate features, then slipped her pen into her pocket and set off for the testing center. Doug Swallow was certainly easy to please; there was no doubt about that. So far, everything was going her way.

 **Kendall Shaw  
** Kendall's apartment  
February 23, 2013; 11:05 p.m.

"Hullo there, Kendall!"

Kendall gave a fleeting smile to her landlord. "Good evening, Florence," she said. "What brings you here this late?"

"Business as usual," the older man answered. "I manage four other properties, you know. I go through maintenance requests, prepare credit checks, make sure the properties are on the up and up, prepare invoices for the rent … you know how it is."

Kendall nodded knowingly, giving him about half of her attention. This was a conversation they'd had several times in the past, and she practically knew it by heart. Florence was somewhere in his mid-fifties, and by his own admission, his memory wasn't what it used to be. He would often regale Kendall with tales from the days of his youth, usually about his time as a soldier in the Vietnam War or of the "colorful" seventies when he first met his husband Weston.

Now and then, Kendall found the stories fascinating. But she was most often bored out of her mind.

Tonight, the latter was definitely the case.

Sometimes, if she was feeling especially bored and wanted to shake things up a bit, she would ask him a question for which she knew, word for word, what he would say. She couldn't have cared less, of course, but she reveled in the knowledge that she could manipulate him, however slightly.

So yes, she knew tonight's speech well. While the aging landlord spoke, Kendall nodded absently, making noncommittal grunts here and there as she searched her backpack for her room key. Fishing it out, she paused, impatiently shifting the heavy pack in her arms as she regarded Florence.

"So to answer your question, Kendall— "

" – You do your work here because this place is the most relaxing … and because out of all your tenants, we're your favorites," Kendall quipped. "If you'll please excuse me, I need to get home."

"Oh, of course! Sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I just love talking with my tenants, you know? Weston always tells me, 'You treat your tenants like family,' he says. Of course, I know he enjoys your company as well. Why, we had _such_ adventures our first year at UCLA … "

Upon entering her apartment, Kendall set down her things and preheated the oven for 350 degrees. She would have lamb chops tonight.

She sat at the kitchen table, thinking about Doug. Starbuck's with him would be pretty high up there on her "Most Boring Dates" list—if one could even _call_ it a date. She'd spent the hour hearing him quoting her movie after movie, then explaining all about this or that character and how he affected the plot. Eventually, she'd tuned him out and sipped her coffee, thinking about nothing in particular, but by the time Doug had gotten to the eighth scene of _The Empire Strikes Back_ , Kendall had stood and made an excuse to get him to take her home. He had relented and become very self-conscious, even telling her that he was aware he talked too much. But when they got to the apartment complex, Doug had given him a pocket-sized photo of himself ( _narcissistic much?_ thought Kendall), written his phone number on the back, and asked her out again.

She had agreed on the condition that _she_ got to choose the next venue; then, taking his hand while indicating her phone number written across his palm, rose on her toes to brush her lips against his cheek. Finally, he'd stammered out a goodbye, his face as red as a tomato, and left.

As she mused over Doug's photo, the dopey smile on his face reminded her of another man she'd once known. Setting Doug's photo aside, she took another photo from her wallet. It was a photo of a young girl in her early teens. She held up an arithmetic textbook and yellow pad of college-ruled paper, and though her smile was void of emotion, Kendall nonetheless felt a chill go up her spine. Next to the girl stood a young man of college age. In another setting, he might have been handsome, but his eyes, though glassy in the photo, appeared to swim in tears of gratitude as he gazed adoringly at the girl next to him.

"Oh, you poor, pathetic, gullible _sod_ ," she spoke softly to the man in the picture. "You should know, I found a new tutor tonight. I hope you don't mind … Terry."

She heard a beep coming from the stove, then moved to put the dish of lamb chops in the oven. _Feeding time_.

 **to be continued ...**

* * *

 _Would you mind if I hurt you?_  
 _Understand that I need to_  
 _Wish that I had other choices_  
 _Than to harm the one I love_

 _What have you done now?_

 _I know I'd better stop trying_  
 _You know that there's no denying_  
 _I won't show mercy on you now_

 _I know I should stop believing_  
 _I know there's no retrieving_  
 _It's over now, what have you done?_

 _What have you done now?_

 _I, I've been waiting for someone like you_  
 _But now you are slipping away_  
 _What have you done now?_  
 _Why, why does fate make us suffer?_  
 _There's a curse between us, between me and you_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done now?_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done now?_

 _Would you mind if I killed you?_  
 _Would you mind if I tried to?_  
 _'Cause you have_

 _Turned into my worst enemy_  
 _You carry hate that I don't feel_  
 _It's over now, what have you done?_

 _What have you done now?_

 _I, I've been waiting for someone like you_  
 _But now you are slipping away_  
 _What have you done now?_  
 _Why, why does fate make us suffer?_  
 _There's a curse between us, between me and you_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done now?_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done now?_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_

 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_  
 _What have you done?_

 _I will not fall, won't let it go_  
 _We will be free when it ends_

 _I, I've been waiting for someone like you_  
 _But now you are slipping away_  
 _What have you done now?_  
 _Why, why does fate make us suffer?_  
 _There's a curse between us, between me and you_

 _I've been waiting for someone like you_  
 _But now you are slipping away_  
 _What have you done now?_  
 _Why, why does fate make us suffer?_  
 _There's a curse between us, between me and you_

-Within Temptation

* * *

Hey, folks! Thanks for coming our way! On behalf of JP and myself, here's some reader response reviews for our fantastic readers!

Muhammad S

JP: Look, it worked mate! You dropped us a line, and lo and behold, only 4 months and change later, we've finally updated this poor, deserted story which surpasses my poor, neglected _Turnabout Everlasting_ and _Filling the Void_! :p

I hope to have more frequent updates going forward and I am delighted to have heard that one of my favourite readers has been enjoying our portrayals so far of this criminally underrated ship! I hope to hear from you again soon! Thanks for being awesome!

JB: It's good to be back! This summer, I directed a group of youngsters in a production of _Peter Pan_ , and while it wasn't the first play I'd directed, it was hands down Debeste! So I had so little time to write. But we're back now and tackling Mia and Diego with a vengeance! Uh, maybe I shouldn't put it that way …

I'm surprised that there are so few Mia/Diego fanfics out there! Most of 'em that I've found are a little too angsty for my taste. JP and I plan to remedy that with this adventure—we want to portray the playful side of their relationship as well as the sadness part. We _all_ know that story.

Ilet Moratar

JP: There is canon Ace Attorney artwork of the beautiful buxom beauty essentially dragging weenie Feenie by the ear behind her as she marches purposefully down the hall, and when you add that to her _"that P doesn't stand for Phoenix"_ comment in the 3rd game, it really does give the betrayal of a no nonsense ball breaker with a passion that definitely would qualify her as an honorary Latina – after all it's what you say about _me_ , no, _mi hermana dulce_?

Perhaps it's a good thing the only one of the drop dead gorgeous couple was Latin though, (too much _fuego_ _en la casa_ will burn it to the ground!) since nobody really wants to see Diego Armando's beautiful face covered up by the much-needed baseball umbrella mask! It's a good thing she aimed her fury with those cups far away from him because I get the feeling she what had really good aim! _Jajaja!_

Writing steam for these two was a lot of fun, and I certainly hope I can sneak in another one because let's face it they were the hottest couple in Ace Attorney history and one of the few canon ones as well! I'm glad you enjoyed it, as well as the whole meaning behind cat scratch fever! ;)

JB: As co-planner of this story, I can say for certain that there will be more steam.

TheFreelancerSeal

JP: As far as hottest couples goes, Miego has only lost that rank since poor Mia is no longer in this world. Ergo, I do think Nick and Maya would qualify as the hottest "non-couple"/couple in my books… The anime has been very kind to them since the artists are such a diehard Nick and Maya shippers, plus the artistry has improved so much in season one where both of the men are almost as attractive as they are in the video games so this is just my biased lady boner for Phaya talking here!

I like the idea of Mia being a perfect picture worthy of the major leagues! Luckily for Diego she kept her aim for away from _his_ balls! The one thing I stubbornly refused to believe otherwise is that she was ever a switch _hitter –_ and was a one baller gal just like the sexy Latino knew no other lover after Mia. I really do believe Mia stayed faithful to Diego when he was comatose all those years till the day she died, which is the equivalent of "forsaking all others till death do us part" in marriage vows."

" _Queen of Steam_!" Ha! I _lurve_ it! A good friend of mine recently referred to me as _"the bees knees of sex scenes"_ and I am so humbled by the sentiment! It's very hard to do when you try to keep a story still rated _teen_ so thankyouverymuch! I know that this Miego one pushed the boundaries even more than _TE_ ever did, but I'm happy it was enjoyable! As for the mile high club with Phaya, when you're with somebody for a long time you gotta keep it fresh and not just limited to the bedroom to keep things interesting! (Also keep in mind how long they had been apart in the story when they traumatized for Miles with their naughty airplane lavatory shenanigans!)

I went into this project with my good friend JB knowing full well that the story for these doomed Romeo and Juliet lovers has a tragic ending, but the key thing is not to emphasize on their death – yes I said plural because I don't think Godot is dead – but on the fact that these two lived and living proof of how love surpasses death. 3

JB: I couldn't have said it better, JP! This story celebrates their life! Their passion, their adventures together, their likes and dislikes … and of course, the Feys. We're touching on a few of the themes JP is in _Turnabout Everlasting_. (On that note, that's where I first got to know JP. I'm definitely a fan!)

I'm glad you enjoyed the destruction of Diego's sweet cups of bitterness, however traumatic the scene was. I touched on the idea of his mugs in the first chapter, and in this one, JP took that idea and _ran_ with it. It was tough to read.

The funny thing about the mile high club is that I grew up in the Mile High City. I very naïvely told her that my parents, too, were in the mile high club! Oh, my hot face …

JP certainly is a sweetheart! I enjoy our planning sessions. They often involve much swearing as our webcams refuse to work or give us any sound.

andreapirlono1fan

JP: Headcanon… The passionate and ever sexy Diego Armando was the best kisser in the entire Ace Attorney universe! Methinks that man had witchcraft in his lips… Seeing as how coffee does always give you the greatest breath but I have no doubt that he was still a Rico Sauve with the ladies nevertheless! I'm glad you enjoyed the Miego lip lock… And _more_! ;)

JB: We're glad you're enjoying our fic as much as we are! I love Diego/Mia as a couple and am also a big fan of Phoenix/Maya, Maggey/Gumshoe (which is _officially_ canon, as of the season 2 anime!), and Edgeworth/Franziska and Apollo/Athena to an extent.

And yes, it was a _very_ sexy kiss. And the kiss after that. And the kiss … well, you get the idea. While I'd imagine a Dick Gumshoe kiss is equal in power to a Diego Armando kiss, in terms of passion Diego takes the cake. A mouth-watering, Mia flavored cake.

napoleon32

JP: I think poor Mia was like a volcano ready to implode by that point – but isn't she lucky to have had a lever to bring it all out of her in the best/worst way possible? :p

Sexual healing has a whole new meaning does it not? You have no idea how much fun I had looking up those stripper names but I really do think Diego could've rivaled Klavier Gavin in the womanizing department if he hadn't met me and things had happened as they did!

You know that is a fantastic question which my partner and I will have get into – I think Mia _did_ know perhaps after the tragedy that befell her lover that she was related to Satan's succubus, but perhaps not before then. I believe since after that she made her life's mission to research and track Dahlia down she would've made that horrible discovery in the process. However, even if she did know, it certainly didn't mean she had a loyalty towards her kinswoman since she went after Dahlia with a vengeance and was responsible for sending her to hell the first time!

Hammond is one of the victims in Ace Attorney that nobody shed any tears for… I'm really sure my partner is going to make sure that in the next upcoming arc!

JB: Say it five times fast: Collection of Conquest Coffee Cups, Collection of Conquest Coffee Cups, Collection of Conquest Coffee Cups, Collection of Conquest Coffee Cups, Collection of Conquest Coffee Cups! (I'll have you know I typed all that out—no copy and paste here, no way no how!) Thanks for waiting patiently (or maybe not so patiently—if that's the case, we sure don't hold you in contempt) for the Diego/Mia coitus interruptus reveal while we set up our Dahlia/Doug arc. Your money's on Hammond, eh? I'd say … that's a fine guess. (Of course, that's exactly what J.K. Rowling said in an interview when asked if R.A.B. was Regulus Black. Good times.)

Our plans for Hammond are so epic, even _we_ aren't certain about the details! We haven't forgotten how the jerk destroyed all those lives during the DL-6 Incident, and that's definitely going to come into play.

Forgreatcoffee

JP: I imagine the story is going to bring up a lot of bitter and sweet memories for you, Señor Java. I'm really happy that you're reading and that you're enjoying it but moreover that I was able to do any justice at all to the passion you two must've shared!

Coffee is equally as horrendous on your breath as beer… I'm happy you kicked the habit at least during moments of ardor! Looks like you were both positive influences on each other!

Mia is very lucky that she had you to lean on after the whole trauma of what happened during her first trial… I've always said it's better to be mad than sad even a very unorthodox way of being a therapist! Like I said before… _sexual healing_ indeed! Meow!

That being said perhaps the resulting scratches on your back are the reason you couldn't remember if you locked that door or not? Let me know if you remembered who it was next chapter! Also I'm really looking forward to the latest update in your " _Ask Godot Q &A!"_

JB: I'm enjoying learning more about your many adventures, and that we get to reveal more bits of your backstory and your passionate fling with your sexy kitten. I'm also thrilled to finally have a definitive answer to the question: Is it a ladder or a stepladder? No one says no to Diego Armando.

More fun and adventure to come next chapter as we once again visit the Grand Lord of Coffee and the Goddess of the Defense's Bench! (Hey, it's three in the morning. These are my nicknames at this hour, take 'em or leave 'em!)


End file.
